The New Companion
by BlueSuedeShoes23
Summary: The Doctor is bored without a companion, but has sworn them off for good. Will a fateful meeting with a stuttering astronomy table maker change his mind? / Melting co-workers, bodily takeovers, mysterious star charts and a gradual, sweet romance. 11th Doctor/ OC
1. Chapter 1: The Testy TARDIS

**CH. 1: **_**The Testy TARDIS**_

Deep through space and time shot the Doctor's blue TARDIS, stardust trailing in its wake.

Inside the TARDIS was the Doctor. He sat on a stool by the control panel, thumping out a rhythm on the dash with his open palm.

Ba-dump-bump-bump. Ba-dump-bump-bump. Ba-dump-bump-bump.

The beat slowed, and it soon stopped all together. The soft hum of the TARDIS resounded in the Doctor's ears. The time rotator bobbed tranquilly up and down, up and down. A navigator doo-dad buzzed. Colorful signal lights blinked. The Doctor sighed.

"_WHY IS EVERYTHING SO DULL?"_ Just like that, the quiet was shattered, and the Doctor had jumped to his feet, knocked over his stool, and tore around to the other side of the council to pull and crank at the necessary levers and pulleys—all while rambling at a hundred miles an hour.

"Places to go, things to _see!_ Yes, yes, _yes_. Hear that, old girl?" said the Doctor to his TARDIS. "We're going somewhere today, tomorrow, yesterday-irrelevant! Haha! Yes! Hmm. But _Where_? _When_? The Caves of Zaziba? How about that one Kroll expedition? Mandrels sure had it in over their heads _that_ year. Well, it _was_ a one-time thing…If you don't include all that parallel universe wobble-jobble or the incident of 2156-" He babbled on.

Truth was, the Doctor was bored-_dreadfully_ bored—and had been for long while. Even with all of space and time before him, the Doctor could not find interest in any of his fantastical adventures. A visit to the Lost Ruins of Topica—before it was lost? Dull. Saving the headstrong Sfeers from mind-controlling crop parasites? Tedious. No matter where or when he went, the Doctor found it all so dreadfully, terribly _boring_.

He knew what the issue was; he needed a companion. Yes, a companion would spice things up considerably. However, the simplicity of his solution stopped there.

The old time lord had traversed the universe with many companions, but it was difficult to think of them now without remorse. Numerous enthusiastic, intelligent people had ended up dead—or worse—under his care. Space-time travel was a tricky business.

And so, after the fate of his last few companions, the Doctor had sworn off company for good. He must learn to live with the loneliness and subsequent boredom.

It was another day in the TARDIS, and the Doctor was prattling to his ship as usual. "Really not so bad—this solitary thing…," he said, meandering into the control room. The TARDIS groaned. He patted a wall apologetically, "Of course _you're_ with me, you sexy thing. Ever dependable. Well, I say _dependable. _Hmm. Not quite the right word there…rare you take me exactly where I want." The Doctor seemed to consider this, but shrugged it off. "Right. 'Course, I see all sorts of beings in my travels—no need to have one of them _here_. And it's not as if I haven't been alone before…" The TARDIS groaned for a second time. "Feeling testy today, aren't we, love?" The Doctor shook his head. "Fair enough. Well, where shall we go next? The universe is ours…" he trailed off.

It was useless. Even talking aloud provided no real consolation today. The Doctor was in no mood to travel.

His ship's hum filled the air. Gadgets and gizmos whirred and buzzed.

With a sort of finality, he plopped in his stool. "Actually…I don't think we'll be heading anywhere today, old girl. We can have…some quiet time alone, I think." The TARDIS hum resumed. Absentmindedly, he put his hand against the console dash.

Ba-dump-bump-bump. Ba-dump-bump-bump. Ba-dump-bump-bump.

Suddenly, the TARDIS groaned and shook with violence. Alarms sounded, gears and levers shifted, and pulleys wound all of their own accord. The Doctor, having been thrown from his seat, lay in complete bewilderment on the TARDIS floor.

"What _are_ you doing?!" he shouted over the commotion as he struggled to right himself. The TARDIS persisted in its uproar.

"I haven't _done_ anything! How are you doing that!" The complex series of gears, levers, pulleys, and other such contraptions in the central console moved independently, as if invisible people were behind their operation. "Where are we-!" Another unusually violent shake of the TARDIS knocked him off his feet again, cutting him off. Then-the shaking stopped; the alarms shut off. His ship hummed with content. The Doctor retracted himself from the floor with shaking legs. Using the console dash to steady himself, he peered up at the destination screen above the time rotator. It read,

LOCATION: PLANET EARTH.

TIME: CURRENT.

The doors of the TARDIS opened.

/


	2. Chapter 2: A Fateful Meeting

**CH. 2: **_**A Fateful Meeting**_

It was a big day for me at work. After a year of slaving away at data tables, scanning the skies, precise measuring, and multiple drafting attempts, I had finished my first star chart.

Completing a star chart of the proportion I had done was a real feat-a true work of art, if I do say so myself. For the ump-teenth time that day, I unrolled a small portion of it across my desk and looked at it with pride. There, in that cluster of stars making up Ursa Major, was the Big Dipper; however, even the Big Dipper didn't look very big in relation to the rest of chart, which was massive and still rolled up tight at the end of my desk. Of course, next to the Big Dipper was the Little Dipper. Looking over here- Saturn, a small speck of bright light just below the star Spica…

There was a rap on the door and a shock of blonde hair appeared. "Samantha! Your chart! You've completed it, then?"

"D-D-David," I stammered as he waltzed his way in. He was looking super-model-great today, as usual. He strolled over to the chair I sat in and leaned over to inspect the chart closer.

"Wow, that's beautiful. You did a great job—boss'll be impressed." Even with all of David's hunky glory looming over me, I managed to swell with pride at the words.

"Th-Thanks…" I smiled in his direction. "I-I'm p-proud of it."

"As you should be," he countered with a smirk. I grinned back, tucking my hair behind my ears. David was always so nice to me. "Have you shown it to the boss?"

"N-Not yet…"

"Hey there, Stutters," said a voice at the door. I flinched at the nickname. It was Rene, gorgeous in her well-tailored pencil skirt and blouse. "See you finally have that chart finished…Oh, _hello_ David."

"Hey Rene!" David said, bolting upright. "You gotta check this out. Samantha did a great job." Rene raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, I'd love to…but, um. David. Would you mind helping me with something…?" She bit her lip. "It's kind of embarrassing…I need help lifting an easel. It's too heavy…" She spun her glossy red hair around a finger.

"Of course, Rene! Um, I'll check the rest out later, Samantha!" He shot out the door.

"Bye, Stutters!" Rene called, and they were gone.

I sat there at my desk, bitterness itself. It was no surprise that Rene had coerced David away with her charms, but calling me _Stutters?_ I hadn't gotten a nickname like that since high school. _David probably thought it was just a little _tease_, too. _ I sniffed. Even now, nicknames like that hurt.

Putting on my big-girl face, I rolled up the chart and put it in my art tube carrier. It reminded me of _National Treasure_—that one tube Nick Cage put the Declaration of Independence in. This one had a strap, too. I chuckled to myself at this revelation and relaxed.

_You may have a stutter, _I thought, _but you can create one mean astronomy table._

_/_

Later that day, I showed my boss my finished work. She was as impressed with it as I had hoped she would be, stating, "The client will be thrilled." I was ecstatic. If they really liked it, they might ask for their next commission from me personally! I was going places.

"You'll have to give your presentation today." The bomb fell.

"P-P-Presentation?" I stammered.

"Oh yes. You'll have to present it to our client—standard procedure. This was a big job; they wanted to know immediately when it was finished. I'll email them now…" She thumbed away at her iPhone. "The client's representatives will be sure to head over... Real astronomy buff, this one. Wants to make sure it's perfect." I stared at her, pleading. She had to know this was my worst nightmare; I've worked under her at this company for two years.

"I'm sorry, Miss Urbans, but there's nothing I can do. It's your chart; you know it best. I would've told you about the presentation earlier, but I thought it'd just make you more nervous."

"I-I-I w-would've ap-pr-preciated a w-warning, th-thanks." Already my stammer was getting worse. She nodded.

"Yes, well, I will definitely give a warning next time…" Her phone dinged. "Ah! They'll be here at one. I'll have to get things in order..." she rose from her chair. "Have your things ready in the conference room by then, Miss Urbans." She left via the open door of her office, the click-click of her black heels on the tiles fading into nothing.

My legs felt like lumps of dead fish as I willed myself to walk down the hall to my workroom, chart slung across my back. I checked the time on the clock above my desk—half past twelve. My heart raced; I needed to calm myself. It was guaranteed that I would be stuttering throughout the presentation, but if I relaxed some beforehand it might not get too bad. _Too much is riding on this, Samantha…_

Gathering what I needed there, I exited my workroom and walked with an armload of things towards the conference room. A right, then a left… Turning the final corner, I ran into Rene again. "Oh. Hello," she said dryly. I gave her a nervous smile back and nodded. I had hoped that this might be greeting enough—Rene always made me nervous-until she offered me a condescending eyebrow raise.

"H-h-hello…," I replied. It wasn't a horrible stutter, but Rene barely repressed a scowl upon hearing it. That was Rene for you. I flushed. _Please_ don't talk to me long. My things were heavy and awkward to carry, and she was amiable as ever. Rene adjusted her skirt.

"I see you're getting ready for your show-and-tell. Oh, but I'm sure it's a big deal for you_." _I gritted my teeth.

"N-n-not at all," I replied. Rene did not seem impressed. She looked about herself as if she were bored.

"Well, I better get going. I have things to do before the reps come. I'm their escort, so I'll get to see your entire presentation, Stutters." She gave a short laugh and waved a hand dismissively. "Goodbye." With that, she turned the corner, leaving me simmering. Her interactions with me were always like that-very juvenile and catty. I continued my trek in a huff.

Upon arriving in the council room, my anger at Rene was fast replaced by more pressing emotions. _If I set up now, I can practice a little before everyone comes in…_ Cold sweat formed on my forehead. The council room was small and intimate with no exterior windows; the reps would be only feet away from me, as would that snob Rene...

I positioned my three largest display easels in the front of the room, lined side by side near the center, and placed my pointer on a ledge. My chart, still carefully rolled up in the art tube case, was still slung across my back. I made a move to remove it.

A wheezing, complaining sound—almost like labored breathing, but more mechanical—caused me to jump where I stood. I tensed, and my eyes darted back and forth across the small room. _Where was it coming from…?_

There_._ In the corner by the last row of chairs, a large and rectangular blue box _faded_ in and out of existence, finally becoming solid as the wheezing sound snuffed itself out. I stared at it. _Is that one of those old police boxes?_ I rubbed my eyes and inspected the corner again—yep, still there.

The doors of the police box burst open, a slim figure rushing out and breezing past me in the blink of an eye. It was a young man. He skidded to a stop by the hallway door and peered out its little window.

"This is bad. This is very bad. Very bad indeed." He slipped a strange metal flashlight out of his coat pocket and began to wave it around the door handle. It buzzed and rang—I'd never heard anything like it. "Tch. I would land somewhere with no visuals. This won't hold them for long." The light clicked light off, the device's unfamiliar noise ceased, and the man tried the handle, which was now locked. He spun on his heel to face me. "Right. You there. What's your name?"

"S-S-Sam…," I stuttered. I didn't even try to pronounce my full name. This was nuts.

"Hello Sam," he said warmly. "You work here?" I nodded. "Ah. Not anymore. I'm sorry; your boss has been murdered by an invasive alien species. Many of your coworkers, also, I'm afraid." My mouth dropped open. "We're not all like that—swear it! Right. They'll find us soon though…only just escaped them in the main office. They'll be looking." As if on cue, loud crashes and bangs echoed in the distance. "And there they are. No helping it; better get in my TARDIS if you want to live—that box, right over there. Hopefully she'll behave. This conundrum needs a good thinking." The crashes and bangs grew, and then suddenly they were loud at the door. Snarls leaked through the pounding chaos.

So. Unknown but hostile snarling whatever outside, or rambling mad man with a box? It wasn't a hard choice to make. I was at the box's door before he was.

"Good to meet someone with some sense," he commented as he ambled up beside me and creaked open the blue door.

Just then, the thing from the hallway muscled through with a crash and a great splintering of wood. The young man was already in the box; he grabbed my hand and pulled. I chanced a glimpse around my shoulder.

It was Rene...but it wasn't. This Rene was…distorted. Her eye sockets sagged below her eyes; her mouth hung far below her chin. Her slim, fit figure crumpled against the ground in folds of flesh; it was like she was _melting_, but she could _move_. Yes, she could move! She almost had me!

I was pulled stumbling inside, the door slamming shut after me with a decisive _smack_. Then there was silence.

"Ah…really hope you two weren't close…," said the young man. I shook my head in response, still staring blank-faced at the door. "Well, that's a plus anyway... Hm. Intelligent species. Knows there's not much chance of getting through _that_. Let's see… What could they _be_? Should move…don't want them getting any ideas…" I heard him walk away.

Wait. He can't be walking away. This was a _phone_ _box. _It couldn't be more than a few feet in diameter.

I peeled my eyes away from the door, turned around, and gave an audible gasp.


	3. Chapter 3: The Impossible Box

**CH. 3—**_**The Impossible Box**_

This box…This box was bigger on the inside! It was _huge_! I gaped in disbelief. _This…isn't possible! _

The room was roundish—another impossibility realized, considering it was _a_ _box_—with a metal ramp and handrails leading from where I stood towards its center.

In this center fluttered the strange man around a complex circular panel—all chrome, blinking lights, funny buttons, levers, and gears. His hands danced among the controls. Flipping a switch on one side, he would sashay to the other; push a button or crank a gear here or there, then come back around again to drive a throttle forward against the dash or wind a pulley. During all his activity, he monologued,

"Oh, they're _Trezzalites_! Of course! But not quite... More animalistic than before. It's really no wonder I didn't recognize them right away. Nasty, horrible business... We'll stop here then!" He slapped his palm down on a cliché big red button.

The entire room began to quake. "Hold on, miss! This is typical!" I was too dumbfounded to be truly shaken—no pun intended—by the vehement tremors coursing throughout the room. Like a zombie, I latched onto a nearby handrail as the quaking grew more and more intense.

With the loud flip of a final switch, the room stabilized, and the mechanical wheezing paled into a soft background drone. I straightened up and released the railing with shaking hands.

"We're across the street from your building," the man said. "Peer out the door you came in. Go on." He nodded toward the entrance.

Curiosity won out. Not without a furtive glance back, I made my way over to the door with wobbling legs and opened it.

It was as he said. We were on the sidewalk contiguous to my work building.

I stood there for a moment, digesting it, until I saw a woman laden with shopping bags come into view from around the street corner ahead, walking toward a parked car feet away from the box's door. I pulled it fast shut; it sounds strange, but I felt like a peeping tom almost caught in the act.

"You can say it. They all do, one way or another," said the man with a subdued smile. _It's bigger on the inside, _I thought. However, my mouth didn't move to form the words. I looked at him, and he looked at me. Silence commenced between us in the impossible blue box. "Well, love?" he urged.

_Just spit it out!_ I thought, painfully aware of the horrible impending stammer quivering on the tip of my tongue. I couldn't say a word. I _wouldn't_. After _years_ of those stares...in high school, in college, even in the workforce…those scornful faces looking at me like I was an idiot freak… Seeing his face emulate theirs would crush me.

If this bizarre young man couldn't see past my stutter, who would? I stayed silent.

"Okay, look." He held up his palms in peace. "If I'm going to save anyone, we might have to communicate a bit. I only need a little bit of information; I'm not expecting much…"

He thinks that I'm just some silly girl, too overwhelmed by a screwy box to do anything but stand there in shock. Personal pride got the best of me. Without a second thought, I blurted out,

"It's b-b-big-g-g-ger! O-O-On th-the i-i-ns-s-s-side!" I gasped with the effort of forming the simple words, and my face flushed hot in shame.

"Oh," he said evenly. Great. Now he thought me a real idiot, like Rene and all those people from school. I averted my eyes from him and focused on the floor in front of me. I imagined his expression in the tiles. His face, dripping with pity for the girl who couldn't even _speak-_

Gentle fingertips brushed beneath my chin as they raised my gaze to face their owner. The strange young man regarded me without expression, but there was kindness in his eyes. With swift boldness, he inclined his face close to mine and muttered, "Sorry about that. One moment…," and without spectacle, pressed his lips warmly against my own.

"There now!" he said, parting from me. He flashed a white grin. "Try speaking." I stared at him in disbelief.

"You're making _fun_ of me_?"_ I snapped, eyes piercing daggers. His smile only broadened. A knot of fury formed in the pit of my stomach.

Then it hit me.

I hadn't stuttered. My eyes grew as wide as his current smile. "I didn't stutter…," I whispered. Then, voice rising, "I'm…not stuttering!" He let out a jubilant laugh and took my hands in his, hopping up and down like a triumphant schoolboy.

"Nope! Not anymore!"

"But how? That…_kiss_?!"

"Yup- It's a time lord thing." He let go of my hands and pranced jauntily about the room. "Actually, more of a TARDIS thing. With a bit of time lordyness mixed in." He rubbed a handrail affectionately. "The TARDIS—supreme translator of all known languages. Me, I only know about five billion of them, but that was enough!" He beamed at me.

"Ah…sorry?" To say I was lost would be an understatement.

"Me, as a time lord. I made myself an _amplifier_ for the TARDIS so she could repair that little speech impediment of yours. A stammer really is an easy fix, though you wouldn't _believe_ the uproar it caused with a young man I happened upon in 17th century China—"

"Whoa-whoa-hold it. You-in the 17th century? You could hardly be over 35." I wasn't stammering. _I wasn't stammering! _ My joy was overriding my confusion, but I wasn't about to let my newfound articulation go to waste. "And time lords? A _whatiss_? What happened to Rene? David—is David okay? We have to go after him, Mr…? What is your name?"

"Who knew you'd be a talker! No, don't be offended. I like talkers; I'm one of them. Call me the Doctor. I'm alien—time lord, precisely. This is the TARDIS," he gestured about the room. "Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. Space-time travel. Brilliant. And yes, I look great for my age; thanks for noticing." He finished with a wink.

"Right," I blinked, "of course."

"Didn't comprehend a word of that, did you?"

"Not quite."

"That's alright. It'll make more sense when I show you everything later. Actually, forget I said that!" He hit himself on the forehead. "Sorry. I can't show you anything. You should go now. It's safe here for the moment—just go home and watch the news tonight. I'll take care of everything, don't worry."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You will."

"I won't." Our gazes locked in silence.

"You can't go with me. It's too dangerous." Was that a spark of hope in his eyes? He looked away before I could be sure.

"Please. I can help. Like you said, I have information. I know the building, and…and David's in there. I won't get in your way. If he's still in there, I have to help." I held my breath. He sighed.

"Listen," he placed heavy hands on my shoulders. "What happened to Rene—that could happen to you. It's most likely already happened to your David. These creatures—I believe they're some sort of Trezzalite, but without self-awareness. They were a merciless species before, and now they are truly like animals. They will not think twice about inhabiting your body for energy—that's what they do, how they survive. And if they do, your mind will be invaded and your body will liquefy from the inside out. _Do you still want to go with me_?" His eyes bored into my own. I swallowed.

"...Yes." His arms fell to his sides.

"Alright then, Sam. You may come with me. First things first: give me that tube on your back." My star chart? I'd forgotten all about it. My hand shot to the strap on my shoulder.

"Er, can I ask why?"

"It's glowing."


	4. Chapter 4: That Light

**CH. 4: **_**That Light**_

I grappled behind at the encased chart with frantic fingers and yo-yoed it in front of me by its strap. He wasn't bluffing; through a circular crack round the lid, a feverish yellow light was escaping.

Without taking my eyes off it, I eased the strap up and off my shoulder. "Should I open it?"

"I'm not sure...," he said, brow furrowed. "Could be dangerous...or oodles of fun." He slipped his metal flashlight out of his inner jacket pocket and buzzed it about the seeping glow. "...I can't get a reading. Whatever it is, it's powerful enough to disrupt the sonic screwdriver's theta wavelengths. So what are you, Sam? Optimist or pessimist?"

"Er-sorry?"

"Is your tube filled with rainbows, jammy dodgers, and kittens or a malevolent alien weapon keen on incinerating us both?" I blinked in reply and gave him a long, hard look. He smiled thinly and raised his eyebrows. "Hm...?"

"I say let's open it and find out."

"Oooh. I like you. As you wish, madam." His hand poised ready at the tube's plug-lid, ready to dislodge it with a pop. "Okay. On the count of three. One...two...three!" Off popped the lid and-nothing. "Well, that's odd..." he muttered, adjusting the tube to peer into the now-dark void my starchart nestled in. "I thought for sure that-" A sudden beam of raw radiance erupted from the encased chart and blasted in his face.

I let out a high yelp and jumped, clutching the shining tube with a vise-like grip. The timelord, for his part, reeled back only slightly and for a brief instant. Feet steady again on the TARDIS's metal floor, he confronted the great radiance emanating from the tube face-on and without so much as a blink, his face awash in gold splendor. "Hey, you alright?" He didn't reply, but continued to gaze fixedly into the light.

In attempt to revive him, I shifted the shining light aside, but like a moth to a flame, he fast followed it. Up, down, right, left-whatever which way I maneuvered the chart, he chased in earnest. Before I could get any more brilliant ideas, he wordlessly snatched it from me, plopped himself on the ground, and resumed staring transfixed and unblinking into the light source gleaming out from my art-carrying case.

It was all a bit unnerving, I'll tell you.

Picking the plug off the floor, I sauntered over to where he sat and crouched beside him. He seemed...peaceful, staring into that yellow radiance. A content smile softened his countenance, his eyes bright and open and innocent like a child's. It almost made me wish I was in his place. Huh. Why _wasn't_ I affected by the light? For the first time, I truly looked into the glow...

It was so...beautiful. A warm, fuzzy feeling came over me. My troubles, my worries, my stresses-all melted into nothing like butter on toast. My mind began to wander. What was I doing again...? Something...medical. Yes, definitely medical. Ah, maybe not...? A Doctor. My speech therapist would be excited...No stutter! Can't wait to tell him...David too...

David. That one name struck a chord in me. David. Kind-hearted, friendly David. Was he still alive? He might still be alive! The man in front of me might know!

With effort, I broke my gaze away from the light. Taking care not to look into it again, I aimed to close it off with the plug I held by way of feel.

Just as I almost had it shut tight, the timelord's hand buffeted mine away and then pinned it firmly to the floor. His eyes-vacant of the intelligence I had seen in them before-met mine, and then turned from me, resuming the vigil of the abnormal illumination. I tried to break free, but to no avail; he was stronger than he appeared. My patience was wearing.

"We-ugh! Gotta-ugh! Help-ugh!" Each new venture of escape was met by him pressing my hand harder and harder into the metal floor. It was really starting to hurt, and in retaliation I struck him solidly on the back. "_Get it together!_" I snapped. This only got my other hand pinned solidly under his rear. From then on I tried other tactics.

"Hey there. Hey. You." I nudged his shoulder with my forehead. "Hey. I know that light is tempting, but you have to get let it go. People's lives are at stake. Hey. Mr. 'Time and Relative Dimensions in Space'," I mimicked. "Come on, we have to leave. Um. ..._what did you say your name was again_...? Uh, let's go, um, 'The Doctor'!" I flushed at the dorkiness of his title.

To my great surprise, I felt a stir at this, and looked up to see him shaking his head and tearing his stare away from the light. He rubbed at his eyes, freeing my stiff hands. Soon a plugged tube rolled safely elsewhere across the floor. "You okay?" I queried.

"Just Doctor," he replied, still rubbing his eyes.

"What?"

"It's just Doctor. Not 'The Doctor'." He made sarcastic little quotation marks in the air.

"Oh." _Duh_.

Shaking his head in pity, he said, "Honestly. How can you recall 'Time and Relative Dimensions in Space' on a whim and not remember my _name_?" He seemed truly aghast. "It was better than 'Doctor Who', mind. Wait. No. Actually, I like that. A lot." He smiled to himself.

"So, _Doctor_," I placed careful emphasis on the name. "Why is my chart _shining_? And why were you staring into it so long? It didn't take long for me to break free. At least, I don't think..."

"Excellent questions. To the first question: haven't a clue. But that light," he pointed to the tube lying across the floor we crouched on, "that radiance more like, is a weapon, as I earlier predicted. Used by advanced civilizations in times of war. Effective, to an extent-excellent at distracting otherwise good soldiers until they were massacred by the thousands. The more experience they had, the longer they were trapped under the radiance's spell."

"You were trapped longer because you have more experience?"

"In a way, yes. But no. Other factors should be considered." He waved his hands around like an orchestra conductor. "Like shock, or memories boiling up and rousing you from your stupor. Weapons like this try to consider these other factors, however. Makes you love the radiance. You don't want to fight it, especially when it rekindles long-lost memories..." his voice and hand gesticulations faded.

"What kind of memories...?" I said, voice soft.

He started. "Nothing! Nothing. I'll tell you what we need to worry about-David! Your David! David and the others melting like candle wax. We need to hurry-too much time wasted already. The first round of transformations may not yet be completed." The Doctor made for the door.

"Wait! What about the chart?"

"No, leave it. It's not dependable enough to be useful. Look-the light's gone." I glanced over at the tube resting on the floor; no shine spilled from the lid's crack. The Doctor exited the TARDIS, and I sprinted after. "Say," he said, still walking. "You ever think about how weird your job is?"

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